The rainbow slipstream parted like spun glass as the Sovereign Aurora glided into the bustling heart of Galactic Wall Street.
In the old days of the previous regime, this financial sector had been a cold, predatory abyss. Towering obsidian spires had cast dark shadows over debt-foreclosure yards, where entire stellar systems were auctioned off for pennies by heartless loan syndicates. Mortals and cultivators alike had dreaded the mere mention of the sector’s name, knowing that a single missed payment meant eternal indenture for three generations.
Today, the oppressive obsidian spires were completely gone.
In their place stood open, sunlit pavilions built from warm sandstone, polished brass, and golden timber. The entire financial district rested safely upon the continent-sized shell of Old Master Xuan, the Ancient World-Bearing Star-Tortoise. Green vines, white jasmine, and sweet-scented peach trees cascaded over the ancient stone streets. Clean mountain springs flowed beside the walkways, cooling the air with fragrant mist.
Lin Mo stood at the ship’s railing, leaning against the polished mahogany deck.
“Back in Jiangcheng,” Lin Mo remarked, watching the busy pedestrian traffic below, “financial advisors wore three-thousand-yuan suits and talked about risk diversification while losing their clients’ life savings. Galactic Wall Street used to be the exact same thing, just with floating spreadsheets and dark-matter derivatives. It is much nicer as a garden.”
